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Dec 2018
Accumulated dust on the window pane,
left unclean for a seasonal detain.
You swing out the casement,
powder clouded the air,
But, you don't care.
Instead, you lean out,
your face caressed by the outside breeze,
tousling your hair.
Sun rays landed on the cheek, 
shadows on the crease.
You try to breathe.
Your eyes squint, 
the dust might have been.
But,
some blurry
distinct entities
of love, pain,
hate and shame
comes running down your cheeks.

Rubbing incessantly, 
      blaming the wind.
Enia
Written by
Enia
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